


Let Me Hold You

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 11:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14080233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: As Daryl struggles with the guilt he feels over Glenn’s death, and the treatment he suffered locked away in the Sanctuary, the reader watches over him, seeking to comfort him in any way she can.





	Let Me Hold You

**Author's Note:**

> This was another anonymous request on Tumblr, and another short ‘n’ sweet fluff piece. 
> 
> ‘Little spoon Daryl Dixon. After all he has gone through at the show, I just want him to be hold, and cuddled and loved.’

‘Y/N, you got a minute?’  Maggie’s voice tore your attention away from the stick that you were scraping away at with your knife, sharpening the end into a vicious point as Daryl had showed you a few days before, forming a make-shift arrow for his crossbow.  You glanced over at the archer, who didn’t even bother to look up as you downed your tools and stood, making your way over to the hut where you stayed with Maggie, Sasha and Enid.

You hadn’t been at Hilltop for long, knew that Gregory, the leader of the community, hated your presence there, but it was starting to feel like home, and you enjoyed being quartered with the other girls, even in these hard times.  You’d felt useful, supporting Maggie, especially in the days immediately following Glenn’s death, but now she had thrown herself, heart and soul, into preparing for war with the Saviors, and it had given her a new purpose.  As she’d thrived, growing a small gathering of loyal followers within the settlement, you’d found yourself looking out for Daryl instead, concerned about his wellbeing after what he went through as Negan’s prisoner.  

'How is he?’ Maggie asked as you stepped inside, tossing you an apple, which you bit into enthusiastically, enjoying the burst of sweetness on your tongue.

'Same,’ you told her, through your mouthful of fruit.  'Quiet.’

'Well, he was never much of a chatterbox.’

'I know,’ you agreed.  'But it’s different.  He’s so… cold.  I don’t know.  He’s not himself, that’s for sure.’

'None of us are,’ she sighed, and you took in the dark circles under her eyes as she sank down into a wooden chair by the table.  

'You’re pushing yourself too hard, Maggie.  You need to give yourself a break.’

'Oh, I’m fine,’ she reassured you, forcing a smile, turning the conversation back to your tortured comrade.  'He still hasn’t spoken to me, y'know.’

'I know.’

'Do you think I should try-’

'Not yet,’ you cut her off.  He wasn’t ready to face her yet, you could tell.  Daryl had always carried the weight of the group’s losses on his shoulders, but this time he could pin Glenn’s death on one stupid decision that he’d made, and the responsibility was dragging him down to the ground.  He didn’t talk about it, didn’t talk much at all, but you could see it in the tense set of his face, the way he averted his eyes whenever Maggie walked by.  His guilt was eating him up, but if she tried to address it with him now, he’d either go on the defensive and end up making things worse, or crumble.  He needed time to process it, to come to terms with it, before he’d be ready to go to her and make things right.

'I don’t blame him, Y/N.  It wasn’t his fault.’

'I know that, Mags, and he’ll realise it too, eventually.  It’s just gonna take some time.  We have no idea what it was like for him at the Sanctuary.  He’s just a little… broken right now.  He’ll get there.’

She gave you a sad smile, resting her hand subconsciously on her stomach as though shielding the new life that was growing inside.  'I hope so.  I’m glad you’re looking out for him.  I know he seems strong, and he is, but…  He needs a little looking after sometimes.’

You nodded, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder, wishing, not for the first time, that you could do something to ease her anguish, before turning away and heading back outside.  Daryl glanced up as you approached, his narrowed eyes fixed on you as you dropped down beside him, reaching once again for your stick and knife and getting back to work.  Neither of you spoke, but he wasn’t alone, and you figured that right now, that was enough.

That night, as you shifted position on the couch, unable to get comfortable enough to drift off to sleep, the archer dominated your thoughts.  You’d known him for a long time, since you’d joined the group back at the prison, but you’d never seen his morale this low.  Usually he was so caught up in protecting the group, providing for them, keeping them all going.  If Rick was the group’s steering wheel, Daryl was definitely your engine.  The two of them had seen you all through so much, that it killed you to see the archer hit rock bottom.  You thought about Maggie’s words.  Was she right?  Daryl always seemed so strong, so capable, but was he in need of a little looking after?  Thinking back, although he had close friendships within the group, you’d never seen anybody really show him much affection, never seen anyone wrap their arms around him and hold him close, just because.  

Giving up on the idea of getting any rest, you eased yourself up, swinging your legs round to rest your feet on the cold floor, shivering as you pulled on your boots.  Grabbing a jacket that you thought was Sasha’s from where it had been slung across the table, you slipped it over your shoulders, before quietly inching the door open and stepping out into the chill evening air.  Daryl had been quartered with Jesus over the other side of the field, and you traipsed towards the trailer, unsure of what it was that you were intending to do when you got there, but just needing to see him and check that he was okay.  Jesus was away at the moment, out on a run, scouting out an old army base that he thought might provide them with some much-needed ammo, so Daryl would be alone, and that bothered you more than you’d care to admit.  Nobody should be alone when they were as miserable as he seemed to be.

Not wanting to wake him, you pushed down on the door handle, smiling a little to find that it was unlocked, and eased it open, stepping inside and letting your eyes adjust to the darkness.  You could see the archer’s body, huddled up beneath a thin blanket where he lay on the small camp bed, facing the wall.  At first you thought he was sleeping, but as you moved closer, you could see his shoulders shaking, and had to clamp your hand over your mouth to hold in your sigh of sympathy.  Your heart broke to see what this strong, independent man had been reduced to.  Your actions dictated by pure instinct, you toed your boots off, letting Sasha’s jacket slip down your arms and on to the floor, before you approached the bed, lifting up the blanket and sliding into the warm space behind him.  You felt his body tense up as you curled yourself against his back, one arm snaking out to wrap around his waist, as you folded the other under your head.  You moved your hand up to rest over his heart, finding peace in the steady thrum of it through his thin t-shirt.  

'What the hell-’  Daryl had recovered from his initial shock, but you were quick to cut off his protests.

'Please, just let me do this,’ you pleaded with him, knowing he needed it, even if he wouldn’t admit it himself.  ‘Just let me hold you for a little while, okay?  It’s just us here, and I’ll never tell a soul, I promise.’

For a moment, you half expected him to object, to push you away, but instead he shuffled closer to the wall, his hand drifting down to cover yours and pulling you tighter against him, bending his legs so you could tuck yours up behind them.  You felt his body begin to tremble again as he fell to pieces in your embrace, and you squeezed him tight, as if you could somehow merge your bodies together and share his pain.  His fingers laced with yours, raising your hand to his face, where he placed damp, chapped-lip kisses over your knuckles.  You didn’t speak, you just held him as he purged himself of his guilt and his suffering.  When he finally fell still, you loosened your grip on him just a little, and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his spine, smiling slightly at the shiver than ran through him, despite the layer of fabric between his skin and your lips.

The silence was eventually broken as he let out a gruff chuckle which you felt rumble through his chest, shaking his head against his pillow.

'What?’ you asked, confused, though you had to admit that the sound of his laughter was a tonic to the melancholy atmosphere that had been hanging over you for too long.  'What’s funny?’

'I ain’t never been the lil’ spoon before,’ he scoffed, but when you giggled and tried to move away, his fingers wrapped around your wrist to hold you in place.  'I din’t say ya could let go.’

'Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,’ you reassured him, nestling your face into the crook of his neck, wrinkling your nose when his long hair tickled your skin.  'I’m not going anywhere.’


End file.
